The Homecoming, PostEpilogue
by owlcroft
Summary: St. Patrick's Day in Malibu, shortly after the guys return from Clarence.


A/N: For cann and in response to a forum challenge.

THE HOMECOMING, POST-EPILOGUE

by

Owlcroft

Boisterous men in shiny green hats shouted and waved glass mugs of green beer at each other. Loud Celtic music wailed in the background and the bartender's shamrock tie was splattered with green foam. Hardcastle sat soberly regarding his beer and McCormick glowered at him.

"I give up!" Mark threw his hands in the air. "You're gonna be upset and disappointed forever, aren't ya? Well, I just give up." He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. "Nobody else, ever in the history of the world, was let down by people he thought were his friends. Only you, Judge. Nobody else ever had anybody he trusted stab him in the back. Nobody else ever--"

"Knock it off," growled Hardcastle. He scowled at McCormick then at the crowded bar. "Dunno why I let you talk me into coming here in the first place."

"I thought it might cheer you up. I thought maybe you'd have a good time. I _thought _maybe it'd take your mind off what happened in Clarence for a while. But noooo," Mark shook his head in disgust. "You're just gonna sit there and gloom all over the place. Okay, fine. You do that. I'll sit here and watch." He reached for his beer, took a sip, then settled in and stared at Hardcastle accusingly.

Hardcastle stared back for a moment, then dropped his eyes to the scarred table and sighed. "Yeah, well, maybe I'm just a little sad, okay? I mean, a coupla friends of mine died and a whole lot more turned out to be a buncha crooked weasels. What am I supposed to feel like? You want me to get up and do a little Irish dance or something?"

Mark's look changed to one of sympathy. "No. What I want is for you to make an effort, Judge. Stop dwelling on it." He grimaced as a couple of cheerful souls started singing 'Danny Boy'. Fortunately, they only knew about a dozen words and it soon petered out. "Look, bad things happen to everybody. But if you think about them all the time, if you let them get to you, it just makes it worse. Believe me, I know." He moved his beer mug slightly and frowned at it. "It's not easy being cheerful and upbeat all the time. Sometimes it's really hard. But if you give in, if you just accept being mad and unhappy, you end up worse off than you were before."

The judge rubbed at his chin thoughtfully and glanced at McCormick. "You think I'm giving in? Just kinda _wallowing_ in it?"

"I wouldn't say _that_. But you're not far from it." Mark leaned an elbow on the table and regarded the Judge seriously. "Yeah, you got stuck on the track with some bad people, but there were lots more good people in the stands, rooting for you and cheering you on."

Hardcastle snorted. "That's one of your racing analogies, is it? Real good, McCormick." He sighed and shrugged. "I guess you're right, though. It's just that I grew _up _with those guys. I thought I _knew _them, and they all turned out to be the kinda guys who belong behind bars. Not just swindlers, but _murderers_."

"I know. It's tough," Mark said quietly. "But not all of your old friends turned out that way. What about Albie? Or Buck Miller? Or Judge Stuber? They were your friends, too. And those folks who showed up at the ceremony, they weren't all of _them_ criminals." He ducked to avoid a peanut thrown by a free spirit near the bar. "All the people in Clarence that knew what was going on were scared, Judge. They knew you'd try to put things right, but they were afraid of the people in charge of the town. You can't blame them for that."

"Yes, I can, too! They shoulda done something long before we got there." Hardcastle took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. "But you're probably right. I oughta give it a rest for a while, huh? Think about something else?"

McCormick smiled at him. "Maybe just for a coupla hours. You'll feel better, I promise."

"Okay, I'll take a break from all the gloom stuff." The judge regarded McCormick curiously. "So it's not easy being upbeat and cheerful all the time?"

"Nope." Mark shot a disapproving look at the group starting to sing 'When Irish Eyes Are Smiling'. "You hafta try to remember the good stuff. You know, think of all the things that have gone right, all the stuff that makes you happy."

The judge finished up his beer and pushed back from the table. "Yeah, I know. Like having your health, and a nice place to live. Let's go get some of Tony's green pizza."

"And a family." McCormick set his own empty glass on the table and stood up. "And friends."

"Yeah, and friends," echoed Hardcastle as they pushed their way out of the crowded bar. Behind them, the three carolers concluded their offering.

"When Irish eyes are smi-iling, su-ure they'll ste-eal your heart away."

finis


End file.
